


For Keeps

by BuckinghamAlice



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Damian, Batdad and Superdad - World's Finest Fathers, Batfamily Feels, Daddy's little jelly bean, Domestic, Don't judge me... this was bound to happen sooner or later, Fluff, In which Clark is a big ole lovebug who is a sucker for the baby, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, and these two don't really know what they're doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bruce and Clark take over raising baby Damian, he immediately wraps them both around his tiny finger (though they show it in different ways) and no one sleeps at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Keeps

**Author's Note:**

> Based on/inspired by [this prompt](http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/73226409681/imagine-you-otp-having-their-first-child-person-b) from [Imagine Your OTP...](http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com) and [this post](http://kroganfetish.tumblr.com/post/73373917239/i-wish-bruce-had-bought-up-baby-damian-and-clarkk) by [kroganfetish](http://kroganfetish.tumblr.com).

**Night One**

The night they brought Damian home, no one slept. Three weeks old by the time they got him from Talia, the baby was fussy and colicky and probably scared to be in new surroundings and with new people. Bruce used his phone to pull up websites with advice on quieting a crying baby, and Clark paced the floor with the baby in his arms, rocking and shushing him. Alfred had insisted that it was necessary that the new fathers handle the child themselves, especially while he was getting used to his new home, but he paced the hallway outside the nursery and nearly peaked his head in the door dozens of times.

Clark even placed a somewhat frantic call to his parents, apologizing for waking them up but begging for advice. They didn’t have any suggestions the two harried fathers hadn’t yet tried.

“Maybe he has gas,” Bruce suggested.

Clark tilted his head. “I don’t know.”

“One site says we should massage warm oil into his navel to relieve gas,” Bruce read.

Clark raised an eyebrow. “How is that going to help? He’s already uncomfortable… isn’t that going to make it worse?”

“Clark, we’re _all_ uncomfortable,” Bruce sighed, fishing through the diaper bag that the nanny the al Ghuls had engaged had thrust into Clark’s arms as the baby was thrust into his own. He pulled out a bottle of baby oil and dabbed a bit of it on the corner of a towel. “Here, give me the baby and you warm that.”

The two men awkwardly fumbled with handing off the baby. Clark warmed the towel just slightly with his heat vision as Bruce made soft little shushing sounds and rocked gently. Clark came closer and unsnapped the one piece footed pajama the baby wore and his crying immediately grew louder.

“He’s going to be one of those kids that doesn’t like getting undressed,” Bruce commented.

Clark made a soothing sound toward the baby. “It’s okay, sweetheart.  Don’t worry, pal.  Your daddy has you now.”

“And he’s crying louder than ever,” Bruce replied, furrowing his brows.

Clark looked up at Bruce and sighed. He pulled the baby’s pajamas up past his navel and began to rub at his navel with the soft towel.  “This… is just another new challenge. One that we’re tackling together.” Bruce sighed and shook his head in response to that, but Clark hadn’t expected much more.

“You know what? I’m going to try a nursery rhyme my ma used to sing for me,” Clark began as Bruce looked expectantly at him. Little Damian seemed to watch expectantly as well, but didn’t stop crying. Clark’s voice was soft as he sang,

> “Ladybug, ladybug fly away home,  
>  Your house is on fire and your children are gone,  
>  All except one and that's little Ann,  
>  For she crept under the frying pan.”

Bruce frowned. “That’s a terrible thing to sing to a child, Clark. I don’t believe you heard that from your mother.”

“I did!” he protested. “And he’s only three weeks old… he doesn’t know what it means.”

“Try a different one,” Bruce replied quickly.

Clark sighed. “Since _you’re_ the expert, why don’t you try one?”

“How would I know a nursery rhyme or a lullaby?” Bruce demanded.

“My point exactly,” Clark said. “And this oil thing is upsetting him. I don’t think we should keep this up. Let’s sing him one together.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You and I don’t know any of the same songs. Not any that are appropriate to sing to a baby.”

Clark shook his head and softly sang, “Boy, look what you’ve done to me. Me, and my whole world.” He motioned with his hand for Bruce to join in.

“What is that?” Bruce asking, shaking his head. “I don’t know that song.”

Clark sighed. “It’s ‘Girl’ by Davy Jones, but with ‘girl’ switched to ‘boy.’ Clearly.”

“Yeah,” Bruce scoffed. “Clearly.”

Clark rolled his eyes and continued to sing.

> “Boy, you brought the sun to me.  
>  With your smile, you did it, boy.
> 
> I'm telling you boy, something unknown to me,  
>  Makes you what you are,  
>  and what you are is all I could ask for me,  
>  and it’s good to feel that way, boy.
> 
> Thank you boy, for making the morning brighter  
>  boy, for making the night time nicer  
>  boy, for making a better world for me.”

Damian went from screaming, with his face and red and pinched, to hiccupping little cries and watching Clark’s face. Clark sang it another time, and the baby finally went quiet. The third time, Bruce had picked up the lyrics and sang along, and by the middle of the fourth time, Damian’s eyes finally drifted closed.

“You’re a genius,” Bruce whispered, kissing Clark’s cheek. “Davy Jones is a genius. I’m sorry for questioning either one of you.” Quietly and slowly, Bruce crept to the crib and gently lowered Damian into it.

But as soon as the child was in the crib, he woke up. His eyes flew open and he began to scream as if betrayed. Clark had him in his arms before Bruce had a chance to finish sighing and he launched into another round of Davy Jones.

Bruce slipped out of the nursery and down the hall to Dick’s old bedroom. He plucked one of the many stuffed animals from the shelf next to the dresser and returned to Clark and the still wailing Damian. Bruce made the stuffed animal, a little plush lion cub, dance around to the tune Clark was singing. The baby stopped crying and just watched the stuffed toy dance before him.

“You know,” Clark whispered with a soft smile spreading across his face, “He’s got your eyes. Your exact shade of blue, the same shape… even the silver flecks.”

“And are his bloodshot from exhaustion too?” Bruce asked. But he smiled as he did so.

 

 

**Night Thirty**

It was a week before Damian slept all the way through the night. After two weeks, Bruce started back on nightly patrol, shorter than before, but he felt he had taken enough time off. With Bruce away, Clark found himself in the habit of stationing himself by the crib in case the baby needed someone. He had heard the baby cough the first night Bruce was gone, so he went and turned him over. Then he called his mother and asked which side the baby was really supposed to sleep on, and turned him back. But he felt the need to watch, because what if he stopped breathing? That happened to babies sometimes… he had read a pamphlet about it at the pediatrician’s office when they took Damian in for his first check-up.

Alfred had brought the old rocking chair down from the attic and set it up in the nursery, right next to the crib, while Clark was at work one morning. Clark hadn’t realized that anyone knew he was spending most nights beside the baby (until, that is, he heard Bruce on his way upstairs… then he’d scurry back to their bedroom and slip under the covers as if he had been asleep for a couple of hours).

“I remember the missus rocking Master Bruce in that same chair,” Alfred had said, the one time he had come into the nursery while Clark was watching Damian sleep.

“I’m just… making sure he gets his rest,” Clark had said.

Alfred had nodded. “Yes, of course sir.”

While Clark sat beside the crib, he noticed that Damian breathed softly and balled his little fists when he slept. And just before he woke up, he’d stretch out his fingers… and the first thing he did when he came to was take a swing at the air in front of him. That always made Clark laugh a little.

But on the night that marked one month since Damian had been with them, Clark was in his post beside the crib when he noticed something seemed off about the baby. His arms were at his sides and he didn’t have his hands in fists. But most worrisome was the fact that his breathing sounded slightly labored.

Clark furrowed his brows and leaned over the crib a little further. “Dami, you okay buddy?” he whispered. But the baby kept sleeping, his eyes closed tight and his breathing irregular. Clark felt incredibly guilty (but honestly justified) as he stretched his finger out and poked the boy in his side. “You okay, jellybean?” he demanded urgently. The child’s eyes popped open and he took a split second pause before beginning to scream his lungs out, as if he had to be sure that he had really been betrayed and caught unaware before he began to complain.

“Oh, no,” Clark said, trying to calm him. “Don’t cry, little lambie. Pop’s sorry he poked you!” He scooped the boy into his arms and began to bounce him gently. “I’m sorry, Dami. You just had me worried. I’m sorry, buddy. Let’s just go back to sleep before Daddy comes home, huh?”

He sat in the rocking chair with Damian and started to sing the Davy Jones song, which, after a month, was still the only “lullaby” that helped the baby sleep. Once he had soothed him and got him back to sleep, he rocked just a little longer. He realized he was quite tired from spending so much time watching the baby sleep and not resting much himself, so sitting in the quiet nursery, he fell asleep, too.

Sometime later, Clark felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his heavy eyes lazily and yawned as he glanced up to Bruce with a slightly guilty expression, but Bruce was giving him a half-smile and his body language said he was amused by the situation. “You should both be in bed,” he whispered.

“Oh,” Clark began. “Well, he was… crying.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “He isn’t _now_. He looks to be sleeping pretty soundly.”

Clark sighed. “Now he is, sure. But earlier, he… I was worried.”

“ _Pop_ ,” Bruce began. “You need to sleep in the bed for once. And Damian needs to learn to sleep by himself.”

“What do you mean ‘for once?’” Clark asked. His mind flew to Alfred, whom he had assumed was keeping his secret.

Bruce smiled. “I know you better than that, Clark. Now, come on. Into the crib with him and the bed with you.”

“But he was breathing funny,” Clark said. “It scared the hell out of me.”

Bruce looked critically at the baby and then at Clark. After an appraising glance, he said, “He wasn’t sick enough for you to call the doctor… and he seems fine now.” He brushed his hand along Clark’s jaw and then tipped his chin up so they were looking one another in the eye. “Come to bed.”

Clark looked down at the baby in his arms. “I don’t feel…”

“Ready?” Bruce supplied.

“I was going to say _comfortable_ ,” Clark said. “One of us should be right there with him. At least for tonight. And I really don’t mind sitting up with him. I think my heartbeat comforts him.”

Bruce nodded. “I’m sure it does. But Clark… he has to learn and so do you.”

“The only way I’m getting in that bed is if we take him with us,” Clark protested.

Bruce shook his head. “Definitely not. He’s too small. It’s out of the question.”

“Then I’m staying right in here,” Clark said resolutely.

Bruce sighed and stalked away, apparently deciding the fight wasn’t worth it. Clark turned around in his seat to watch him walk away, leaving the nursery door open behind him. Several minutes later, however, he returned in his pajamas with a blanket and two pillows. Clark watched silently as he spread the blanket on the floor and then didn’t fight him when he gently lifted Damian out of his arms and laid him in his crib.

He pointed to the blanket and the pillows and said, “Bed.” Clark smiled softly and got down on the floor and Bruce slumped down beside him. They settled down under the blanket and snuggled together.

They both grew quite silent, and Bruce was about ready to fall asleep, when Clark spoke softly. “Bet you think I’m crazy.”

“About this or in general?” Bruce asked, glanced up into Clark’s eyes.

Clark sighed. “I don’t know what it is about that baby. I just… never know what I’m doing and it terrifies me.”

“And you think I don’t feel the same way?” Bruce asked.

“You don’t show it,” Clark replied. They fell silent for a few minutes as they heard the baby make a sound like a soft grunt. When they were convinced they hadn’t awakened him, Clark continued, “You don’t panic the way I do.”

Bruce lifted his head and gave Clark a quick kiss. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“You love him, don’t you?” Clark asked.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Of course I do.”

“I do, too,” Clark replied.

Bruce smiled. “I know.” He held a bit tighter to Clark and said, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“You love _me_ too, don’t you?” Clark asked playfully.

Bruce grumbled a little and didn’t respond to the question. Instead he said, “Tomorrow night we’ll put the crib in our room.”

“Good idea,” Clark replied.

“But just for the one night,” Bruce insisted.

Clark smiled. “Of course.”

 

 

**Night 365**

Damian was sleeping soundly in his crib late on the night that they celebrated the one year anniversary of the day he joined the family. There had been a party with cake and presents and everyone they knew pinching Damian’s cheeks and fussing and fawning over him. There were gifts stacked high in the nursery – new clothes and toys and books… and still unassembled in its box, a toddler bed.

“I’m putting that bed together in the morning,” Bruce said idly as he climbed into bed.

“Good,” Clark replied. He was standing beside Damian’s crib, making sure, before he got in bed, that the baby was really asleep.

“I’m putting it together in the _nursery_ ,” Bruce said significantly. “He’s been in here with us long enough.”

Clark looked at Bruce and raised his eyebrow. Then he pulled the belt on his bathrobe tighter as he walked slowly toward the bed. “If you think that’s best.”

Bruce eyed his husband cautiously, and in particular he focused on how tight that belt was tied. He had been planning on that (and a few other articles of clothing) coming off. “I do think it’s best,” he said calmly, with a slight sigh. “In fact, I think you’ll agree with me when you think about it.”

Clark sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. “I have thought about it… and you’re right. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He crossed his arms, a bit petulantly. “He’s just a baby. What if he needs us in the night?”

Bruce scooted a bit closer to Clark and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’ll hear him and be there faster than the blink of an eye.”

“Yeah, well,” Clark began, before his voice trailed off. He turned to face Bruce and reached for his hand. “What if _we_ need _him_?”

Bruce pulled Clark’s hand to his mouth and softly kissed his knuckles. “You know, even if I hadn’t already… _loved_ you, when I saw you with that baby that neither of us expected or knew we wanted, and heard you assure him _and_ me that he was _our_ son, I’d have fallen in love with you.”

Clark smiled. “You’re always so calm and collected and you always know the right way to do things. I couldn’t do this without you… with anyone else.”

“Clark,” Bruce began softly, running his free hand up Clark’s back and slipping his hand under the bathrobe. “Come to bed.” Clark crept toward Bruce, who pulled him close for a kiss. The bathrobe came off and they lied back on the bed. Clark’s hand was just creeping up Bruce’s side when they heard the baby rustling in his crib.

“Shh,” Clark whispered. “Maybe he’ll go back to sleep.” And the baby was quiet again after a minute, so his fathers thought they were home free. But before they could continue their romantic interlude the baby began to cry at the top of his lungs.

They both sighed, got out of bed, and launched into a chorus of Davy Jones.

**Author's Note:**

> And also, this happened because I just really like the idea of them with babies because they really have no idea what they're doing.


End file.
